


P.S. Don't Drop the Soap

by NoShitSherlock



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Baby Fic, Bottom Louis, Criminology Student Harry, Harry journals a lot, Homeless Louis, Homeless Shelter, M/M, Male Lactation, Mean Harry, Mpreg, Mpreg Louis, Prison Guard Harry, Single Parent Louis, Top Harry, prison fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-06 03:10:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13402179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoShitSherlock/pseuds/NoShitSherlock
Summary: "Thank you," Louis mumbles, returning Harry's smile with a small one. "And please stop acting like I'm a disease that will infect you. It's hurtful.""Listen, it's not that you're a disease. It's just that I don't want to be obliged to help you just because your family is linked to mine. Whatever shit you got yourself into, the aftermath of prison shouldn't be free food and a decent bed when you haven't got a penny to live off. You don't deserve free food and a decent bed when there are homeless people out there more deserving who haven't just spent five years in prison. Don't you get it? You're being excused because you're pregnant and because of some stupid oath and I just don't think those are good enough excuses to welcome a criminal into my life. Why couldn't you go to another homeless shelter? Why here?"The blue eyed boy blinks, eyes wide, unable to say anything.∞Or a prison AU where Criminology student Harry, who runs a homeless shelter with his dad Robin, has no choice but to let fresh-out-of-prison Louis into his life, and a newborn baby.





	1. prison pretty

"Son, your grandmother and his swore an oath to protect each other's family," Robin spreads the butter across the slices of toast. "If that means accepting a criminal into our lives then we must do so."

Harry sips on his orange juice, staring out the window at the miserable rain that spits from the sky, a shower of all the possibilities of things that can go utterly wrong letting a criminal into his life.

"I know you feel conflicted because you're about to receive your criminology degree and you're married to the law but your gran would want this," Robin reasons further, finally taking a seat at the dining table. "Son, your silence is concerning."

Harry sighs, putting down his glass and wiping his mouth with a tissue. "Rosie told me that I should keep my distance. I can't do that if I'm working at the homeless shelter in my free time."

"Take the time off then," Robin shrugs his shoulders. "I'll be fine running the place on my own with a few of the helpers."

"Dad," Harry looks at him guiltily. "You and I created the shelter. You and I will run it."

"Harry, it's fine. You need to focus on your exams so you can get that criminology degree and be the first in this family to have a job in the law. You need to stop listening to Rosie. She's more paranoid that Louis is twenty six and potentially attractive over the fact that he's a criminal. That girl has trust issues."

"Don't," the curly headed lad frowns, hurt. "She has her reasons, and we've only been together a few months so I don't blame her. We're not at the peak of trusting each other yet."

"Better get on it, son. If you can't trust your girlfriend how will you trust a criminal?"

"I won't," Harry gets up, an irritated look on his face. "I'm going to wait in the car."

Harry isn't ecstatic about any part of today, or the following until Louis Tomlinson finds somewhere else to sleep that isn't the homeless shelter Robin and Harry run. The whole _swore an oath_ thing sounds like a pile of rubbish to the green eyed lad, just another way to excuse a criminal and what they've done. Five years in prison for first degree burglary with a deadly weapon is not a joke. Who's to say he won't rob Harry and his dad? Or inflict harm on them? Some oath won't prevent that. Harry being defensive and feeling uneasy is acceptable.

He grabs his coat, slipping it on, and slips his phone and a stack of flashcards into his pocket. "And don't use the fact that he's pregnant as a reason to get me to trust him. What am I? Five?"

"Harry, drop the attitude," Robin speaks, about to confront him, but the curly headed lad is out of the house quicker than he can.

Harry takes a seat in the car, slamming the door shut behind him perfectly loud. Truthfully, he's acting _exactly_ like he's five stomping off and slamming doors just to make a statement. He hopes Robin can get a good laugh out of it because the next phase of Harry's "I'm angry" act is purposely spilling wine all over the white beloved rug in the living room, although that would upset Anne more than Robin.

The green eyed boy sighs, missing his mum. She's been off travelling for months now on a special job opportunity, skyping on the occasion and texting whenever she has a free minute. Harry's happy for the great opportunity she's received, but he really wishes she was home to deal with moments like this. She definitely wouldn't agree with letting a criminal into their lives, he thinks.

Harry pulls out his flashcards, skimming over them. There's a knock on his window, and he looks up to see Robin who's rather amused.

"Unlock the door, Harry. We're driving to that penitentiary whether you like it or not. What are you? Five?" he takes the mick.

Harry groans, unlocking the door and letting Robin get into the driver's seat. "Can we stop to get a bite on the way?"

Robin grins, awfully chipper for such a grey day like today. "Sure! Then it's Grandhaven Max. We have us a criminal to pick up."

∞

It's an hour drive to Grandhaven Maximum Security Prison. Harry spends half of it sleeping, and the other half going over his flash cards and snacking on the large pack of chocolates he got to sad-eat his way to feeling better about today. When the car pulls up to the prison, the chocolates don't do a single thing. Harry hides behind his phone, texting Rosie to avoid facing the reality, slumping down in the car seat.

"Son, stop with the foolishness," Robin states, disappointed. "It's not like he's living in our house, he is simply staying at the homeless shelter until he can get back on his feet and provide for himself and his child."

"Provide?" Harry scoffs. "With what job? I don't see the supermarket opening up their job offers to criminals anytime soon."

"That's not for you to be concerned about," Robin replies, reversing into a parking space. "Harry, I understand why you're mad about this, I was too when Grandhaven called about an inmate with the Tomlinson family name expressing their concern that he could go into labour before his release date and since his family have all passed, the next emergency contact would be me. Sometimes in life, things go south for a bit and you got to accept it."

"So why are we letting him stay at the homeless shelter if he hasn't gone into labour yet and is finally being let out?"

"What family friend would I be if I left him on the road with a baby due?" Robin turns off the engine, sighing. "Harry, other than getting involved with another inmate and getting pregnant, he's been flawless according to Grandhaven. I'm sure his criminal days are over. Be a little more open minded, son, he's going to have a kid."

"Like I said, am I five?" Harry questions, but Robin is already out of the car and closing the door. Harry groans, unwillingly getting out of the car, squinting his eyes to stop the rain getting into them. "Hopefully he doesn't go into labour and give birth on the way back. That'll be a bloody mess. Someone may scream murder."

"Harry," Robin frowns, beginning to walk down the path with Harry following. "Don't be so rude, or Rosie isn't allowed to stay over for a whole week."

"Dad, I'm twenty four," Harry rolls his eyes. "You don't need to punish me."

"No, but you live under my roof so I can if I want to. Why don't you do some more studying instead of being rude? If you fail again, I'm not adding another thirty thousand pounds to the sixty I'm already in debt with because you didn't get your degree the first time around."

"Okay, I get it," Harry puts his hands up in surrender. "I'll stop acting stingy, not that it's acting but-"

"Hello?"

Robin and Harry come to a stop before who must be Louis Tomlinson. He's pregnant and his blue eyes are desperate to get away from the prison, and his clothes are almost drenched. He must have been standing in the rain for a while now. Harry stares, not a word he can conjure up to say. He's not exactly sure he wants to talk to the stranger before him. Robin clears his throat, reaching out a hand to shake Louis'.

"Good morning, you must be Louis?" Robin smiles genuinely, receiving a small smile back from the blue eyed boy. "I'm sure you could kill to get out of this place so let us get formal introductions out of the way quickly."

Harry raises his eyebrows at the pun, quite humoured whereas the small pregnant boy flinches, offended but not saying anything about it.

"I'm Robin, this is my son Harry. We run the homeless shelter you will be staying at in the meantime. Are you hungry?" Robin starts to lead him down the pathway to the car. "There's a gas station nearby that we can stop at before we hit the road."

"I'm fine, thank you," Louis mutters quietly, pulling at the drawstrings of his hoodie.

"Well, let me know," Robin approaches the car, opening the passenger door for him. "It's about an hour of a ride so do say if you or your little one get hungry."

Louis gets in without a word, waiting for the door to shut before letting out a sigh. Harry leans against the car, arms folded.

"Dad, why are you being so nice?"

"What use is it being negative, boy?" Robin shakes his head, walking around to the driver's side. "It's not like he murdered someone."

Harry huffs, pushing away from the car and getting in without a further word.

∞

The entire ride consists of a glare on Harry's face. The closer they get back, the more it settles in that he can't do anything about the situation. For a moment, he feels sympathetic. It must be daunting to be fresh out of jail, penniless and about to give birth. Especially since Louis doesn't have a prison face. Physically, _he's not prison quality,_ as Harry jots down in his journal during a rage entry halfway through the drive. Louis looks like the kind of person to get picked on in prison for being small or pushed about for not being extremely hefty and bullied for being pregnant. He's got that soft kind of face that's easily targetted by the rougher men, _the kind they call pretty._  

The moment passes quickly when Harry reminds himself that pregnant or not, the boy can take care of himself, surely if he's endured five years in prison and has come out the other end perfectly fine. Harry continues to write in his journal, the leather book on its last few pages until he's cramming in the last of his words on the final page.

"You alright there, son?" Robin questions, glancing at his son's hand gripping the pen so tightly his knuckles are white. "Do you want me to buy you a new one?"

"No," Harry ties the journal shut, feeling a little bit better getting everything off his chest. "I think I should maybe channel any negative energy into studying for now," he rubs his temples. "Believe it or not, I truly do want that criminology degree."

The blue eyed boy's ears perk up, drowned out from their conversation up until this point. He shifts in his seat uncomfortably before looking away and beginning to draw stick figures with the condensation on the window.

"And I want you to hurry up and get a job, so I completely agree. You do that," Robin turns onto the final road, the shelter seconds away. "What are you drawing there, Louis?" he looks at him through the front mirror.

Louis stays quiet, fingers continuing to draw on the window. Robin gives a smile despite the boy not catching it and decides to focus on pulling up the car and switching off the engine. Harry's first to get out into the rain, slamming the door behind him before Robin is getting out disappointed.

"Looks like you still have some anger pent up in there. You know, for someone who wants a degree in criminology and potentially be a prison guard around thousands of criminals, you surely are miserable about being around one."

"Dad, there's a difference between being a prison guard ordering around criminals and being a helping hand to one of those said criminals for the sake of it."

Robin sighs dramatically. "Goodness, boy, stop making excuses. Why don't you help Louis get out?"

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. "Okay, fine," he approaches the car door, swiftly opening it up. He offers a hand to the smaller boy but he is dismissed.

"Thank you, but I'd rather you stick to disliking me," Louis mutters, gripping the door frame and attempting to pull himself up.

Harry grips onto his arm, helping him up anyway. The green eyed lad closes the door behind him and turns to face his dad. "Would you like to escort Louis? I think I'm going to walk the few blocks to Rosie's fla-"

"You're going to get Louis settled in and then you're going to head home to study," Robin responds sternly. "Go on. I'm just going to get the tins for the storage room out the boot."

Harry sighs for the nth time today and puts his arm out to link with Louis' but the blue eyed boy ignores him and starts to waddle to the entrance. Harry glances at Robin, silently begging to go to Rosie's flat but Robin only gives him a smile, waiting for Harry to do what he's been told.

"You and I aren't playing chess tonight," Harry crosses his arms, a pout on his face as he begins to follow after Louis.

"I'm so wounded," is Robin's sarcastic response.

Harry shakes his head only to get hit in the back with a random bouncy ball he tossed into the boot months ago. He sends Robin a not-as-funny-as-you-find-it look and picks up the small ball, stuffing it into his pocket, walking pass and ahead of Louis. He opens the door, stepping aside to let the smaller boy walk in.

"It's a little full right now," Harry states, giving friendly waves to the few familiar faces he sees roaming the place. "Most people come in the evening and stay the night, but since it's raining, it's a little busy," Harry turns a corner and begins to lead him down the hallway. "My dad and I aren't here every day and night. We don't have a fixed schedule so some weeks we'll be in a lot, some weeks we won't, which is why we have our lovely helpers I'm assuming are in the kitchen right now," he picks a door out of the numerous ones before them. "This will be your room. If you need anything, I'm sure you can find someone. Happy nesting!"

He turns his back, ready to distance himself from Louis, but the smaller boy grabs his arm softly. "May I have some dry clothes?"

Harry turns to face him and gives him a tight smile. "Sure thing."

"Thank you," Louis mumbles, returning Harry's smile with a small one. "And please stop acting like I'm a disease that will infect you. It's hurtful."

Then he grips the door handle and shuts the door, leaving Harry speechless and surprised. Harry furrows his eyebrows, pushing down on the handle and opening the door back up.

"Listen, it's not that you're a disease. It's just that I don't want to be obliged to help you just because your family is linked to mine. Whatever shit you got yourself into, the aftermath of prison shouldn't be free food and a decent bed when you haven't got a penny to live off. You don't deserve _free food_ and a _decent bed_ when there are homeless people out there more deserving who haven't just spent five years in prison. Don't you get it? You're being excused because you're pregnant and because of some stupid oath and I just don't think those are good enough excuses to welcome a criminal into my life. Why couldn't you go to another homeless shelter? Why here?"

The blue eyed boy blinks, eyes wide, unable to say anything. Harry scoffs, finally leaving. He's still got some pent up anger that will only increase staying here. He leaves the spare clothing situation to Robin, walks the few blocks back home, pulls out his books and does some studying.

∞

The hours go by fast, the curly headed lad too entirely wrapped up in the world of criminology to realise dark has fallen outside. Robin never comes back, most likely spending the day at the shelter. When Harry finally stops and sits back, his brain has the chance to breathe a few short seconds before guilt starts eating him up.

What he said to Louis wasn't nice. Indirectly saying that he would rather Louis be on the streets in his state than in safety was cruel, and his mum would expect better than that. As Harry prepares dinner, he starts to disintegrate with guilt. He's not a horrible person. He's kind according to the people at the shelter and at university and even at the café he goes to regularly with Rosie. Mean is not his forte, and he just feels downright terrible, whether Louis is a criminal or not.

He sighs, discarding the chopped vegetables and turning off the stove. He grabs his jacket and keys without a second thought and heads out, only to turn back to grab an umbrella because the rain is ten times worse than it was this morning, accompanied with thunder and lightning. He hopes the wind doesn't flip it over.

When he arrives at the homeless shelter, he closes the umbrella and shrugs off his soaked coat and immediately notices the change of aura in the place. He spots Louis receiving a bowl of soup from one of the helpers, taking a seat by himself. There are several pairs of eyes on him with unkind stares. Usually, everyone just keeps their eyes to themselves. Harry furrows his eyebrows, deciding to enter the kitchen and wait until Louis' finished his soup to pathetically apologise, but apologise nonetheless.

He stands aimlessly until Robin is entering the kitchen for a cup of tea.

"I hope you've done your studying boy," his dad raises his eyebrows expectantly.

Harry takes the mug from his hand, beginning to make the tea for him. "Yeah, I got a bit carried away truthfully."

"I hope you didn't get carried away with Louis. He seemed rather upset when I gave him a fresh pair of clothes."

"Actually," Harry pours the boiling water into the cup, sighing regrettably. "I did, and he may have just been in jail but he's human and I should apologise. I'm just waiting for him to finish his meal."

"Well, son, I'm glad to hear you've grown up a little since this morning," Robin pats him on his back, turning his head at the sound of commotion that starts to come from the eating area. "I wonder what's going on..."

Harry purses his lips, abandoning the tea to walk ahead of Robin and see the issue. Numerous people crowd up at the entrance of the homeless shelter, and there's yelling of all sorts of horrible words. Harry looks to where Louis was sat and sees his soup cast aside in a haste, and then back to the horde of people wrenching the door open.

"HEY!"

He goes ignored, even as he's barging through the crowd. He breaks through when they've finally shut the doors, and takes one look outside at the blue eyed boy in the pouring rain, nothing but a t-shirt and jogging bottoms on. He yanks the doors open, pulling Louis in. Harry expects him to be crying, because getting thrust out into the rain because no one wants a criminal where they sleep should be traumatic, but Louis only stares blankly as if he hasn't even registered what has happened.

"ANYONE WHO THINKS IT'S OKAY TO VIOLATE THE RULES CAN GET OUT!"

Harry pants, anger in his system. It's just not morally right to shove a pregnant person with no home out into the rain. Harry may indirectly state that he'd rather Louis be out in the rain than around him, but truthfully, Harry wouldn't be the one to force him to. It's just not right. And this homeless shelter is meant to be a place of kindness, not vile actions.

He takes one last look at the diminishing group of people, and at Robin who stands away shocked, before he's pulling the pregnant boy away from everyone and to his room. Harry shuts the door behind them, silence thick. He looks around as Louis takes a seat on his bed, quiet as a deer in the headlights.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Louis mumbles, looking away. "I know you don't want to be here so don't feel obliged to."

"I actually came to apologise," Harry admits, looking around awkwardly. "For this morning."

"Save it," Louis gently eases back onto the mattress, placing a hand on his protruding stomach, clothes wetting the sheets. "Go."

Harry opens his mouth, about to protest when there's a knock on the door. The green eyed man opens it, faced with Robin who asks if entering will be fine. Harry gives a nod of his head, letting his dad in. Robin has a sympathetic look on his face, sorry that what just happened had to occur, but he also looks like he's going to share a bit of bad news.

"Louis," he addresses the blue eyed boy who stares at the ceiling, quiet. "My sincerest apologies for what just happened, and for what I'm about to say. Unfortunately, I don't think you should stay here."

Louis struggles to get up, but when he does the scared look on his face is clear to see. "Where will I go?" he quietly asks.

"I, uh," Robin glances at Harry sceptically. "With us," he ignores Harry's burning stare. "Just for a little while as we find somewhere else for you."

"I would rather not," he responds back emptily. "I'm not wanted."

"Nonsense. Harry's just a little stuck up his ass right now. You'd be safer at ours than here. We're doing this for your grandmother and Harry's," Robin gives a gentle smile, dismissing Harry's widened eyes. He digs into his pocket and pulls out his set of car keys, tossing them to the green eyed lad. "You, son, are going to be kind and take Louis home and take care of him for the night. I'm going to stay here and make sure everyone is settled. I'll be back in the morning, terribly tired but back nonetheless."

"But dad-"

"Goodbye, Harry," Robin ruffles his hair, leaving the room.

Harry sulks as Louis fiddles with his fingers, looking anywhere but the taller man. "Come on," he sighs, approaching Louis and helping him up, this time without any fuss. "There's a spare room down the hall from mine. Let's go."

He leads him out the shelter, the smaller boy faced with several harsh comments as they leave. Harry keeps his mouth shut, eager to avoid another confrontation and helps Louis into the car, strapping him in. Keys in the ignition, he starts up the engine, turning on the headlights, then begins to drive the few blocks back home. 

"Doesn't it hurt?"

Louis looks at him, shivering in his wet shirt. Harry reaches over to turn the heater on. Louis turns away, looking out the window at the houses they pass. Harry opts to not say anything else. 

When the short drive is over and Harry's shutting the front door behind him, he remains quiet, leading Louis to the spare bedroom and giving him a spare change of clothes. Once telling him where the toilet is, Louis tucked into bed, Harry begins to leave, fingers on the door handle.

"Thank you."

Harry stops, turning around and giving a small smile. "You're welcome." He has the urge to flat out finally apologise for his behaviour this morning, but the blue eyed boy is closing his eyes and drifting off into a well needed sleep. Harry leaves, heart a little lighter about his situation than it was this morning.  

It's not that he's over it because he's truly not. His brain just can't comprehend the entire idea of being kind to someone who had to be locked up for not following the law. But at the same time, Louis shows no signs of any cruel intentions. He's nothing but a to-be parent unable to provide for himself and child. Although that's a motive to commit the classic thievery and shoplifting crimes, Harry doubts he's in the right frame of mind to do so. With his eyes shut and chest breathing lightly, Louis looks anything but evil. _He's sort of pretty,_ Harry accidentally scribbles down on a piece of paper substituting his stuffed journal, but the kind of pretty that isn't innocent. _Prison pretty._

∞

Harry ends up tossing and turning in his sleep that night, skin hot and bed uncomfortable as the storm rages on outside. He opens his eyes each time he flips over, sleep majorly disrupted. He's finally sinking off into a decent sleep when he starts to hear cries of excruciating pain from down the hallway. His eyes snap open and he glances at the clock only to see it's five minutes to midnight and he's barely slept a thing. He hardly gets a chance mope about his awful time trying to fall asleep when the wailing gets louder. 

Instinctively, he kicks the sheets off him, leaving his room and hurrying down the hallway. He sort of knows what's happening, but doesn't register the fact that it's actually happening until he opens the door to Louis' room. Two thoughts cross his mind.

One, Robin isn't here. Two, _Louis is in labour._

He stands, dumbfounded at the scene, the stained sheets, the pain Louis is in, the entire situation. Louis grips the bed sheets, knuckles turning ghostly pale, and lets out a blood-curdling scream that deafens Harry out of his shock. He scurries out of the room into the nearest bathroom, grabbing a stack of towels. He takes one glance in the mirror and could laugh at himself. He looks like a mess, hair sticking up in some places, and the bags under his eyes are painful to look at. And, he's really about to attempt to help someone give birth.

He gets away from the mirror before he can completely crumble because he barely knows what he's about to do, just that there's a lot of blood and there's a baby halfway through being born. He returns back to Louis, colour draining from his face. The hardest part is already over because there's a little baby girl on the bed between Louis' legs, little arms flailing and tiny lungs being attacked with cries. Then there's Louis, awake but detached from the real world, the pain and the shock of giving birth on his own overwhelming. Harry almost drops the towels, bewildered. 

He takes slow steps towards the newborn baby in tears for someone's touch. He slowly reaches out with the towel, ever so gently patting some of the blood off her little face. 

"Hey, it's okay, little one." 

He smiles widely, hands shaking from the scare. He wraps her up in one of the towels, hands getting messy in the process, and proceeds to lie her on Louis' chest. The blue eyed boy doesn't move to hold her, Harry doesn't think Louis' noticed that she's on his chest yet. Harry sits by his side, holding the newborn in place and calls Louis' name but he doesn't get a response. 

"Louis," he tries again, concerned, but Louis' too far gone in whatever world he's found himself in. 

Harry reaches for his arm, gently squeezing, and finally receives a response. Louis blinks, registering that Harry's sat before him, that there's a weight on his chest, but then he looks away, waiting for Harry to take her. The green eyed lad tilts his head in confusion, taking Louis' hand to wrap it around her but he only tugs it away, not uttering a word.

"Why w-won't you take her?" Harry questions, voice cracking, hurt for the little child.

"H-Her?" Louis looks down at his little girl but then turns his head away again, biting his lip and hiding the few stray tears that fall from his eyes. "I can't provide for her," he chokes out, letting his tears soak the pillow.

"That's why you have my dad and I," Harry tries to reason with him, trying to place his hand on the newborn a second time only for Louis to rip his arm away from Harry's hold. "We're going to help you provide for her."

"I-I don't want to be a charity case," Louis refuses, body starting to shake with sobs the more he denies his baby.

"Please take her," Harry begs, not wanting the little girl to grow up without none of her parents at all. "It's not fair."

Louis finally looks at Harry, hair a mess, cheeks all wet. He doesn't want to abandon his little girl, there's not a part of him that likes the idea, but it's the right thing to do. "I-I c-can't."

"Hey, I won't allow this." 

Harry takes his hand a third time, wrapping it around the little girl. He expects Louis to pull his arm away or drop it from her tiny body, but upon touching her Louis is unable to let go, bringing his other arm up to wrap around her. 

The green eyed lad sighs in relief, bringing himself to the floor and resting back on the bed. He rubs his hands on his face, trying to take in everything without losing his mind. He needs to call an ambulance, then he needs to call Robin.

"What's her name?" Harry questions quietly, listening to the ongoing rain and thunder outside that soothes his mind the slightest.

Louis is slow to respond, still mentally battling with himself. "I-I don't know."

Harry hums, closing his eyes as he shakily breathes in and out slowly.

"Willa," the blue eyed boy wipes his eyes, sniffling. "Willa, the female alternative of William, my middle name."

"Willa," Harry repeats, the name rolling off his tongue nicely as he stares out the window. "That's a very pretty name. Is that all? What, no middle name for her? What've you got?"

"I don't know," Louis mumbles, too entranced by his little girl to think of something.

"Poppy." 

"I'm not going to name my kid a flower."

"Too bad. If you're going to live with us, that's the price you have to pay."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I half stole Willa from Wynonna Earp on Netflix and half stole it from a baby name website haha *upside down smiley face emoji*
> 
> Hi! I came up with this fic idea last year but it wasn't the right time to write it so I set it aside for this year. MEAN HARRY is tagged! In this chapter he's not excessively mean at all but over the course of the chapters, he progressively becomes (or full on is) it.
> 
> Thank you for reading this first chapter, comments or kudos are always welcomed and appreciated <3


	2. prison boys cry

_Willa Poppy Tomlinson,_

_You're here, and you're super quiet. I kinda want you to talk, or make some sort of baby sound to remind me this is all real. I don't mean to hurt your ~~fel~~  feelings, but I hope I don't have to babysit you. You're very cute and I don't want to get attached. Your dad's a criminal..._

"Another one?" Robin questions Harry, walking into the hospital room and taking a seat beside him. "What happened to channelling all your emotions into studying?"

Harry closes his journal, rolling his eyes and ignoring the comment. He places it on the desk beside him. "Aren't you too tired to be interrogating me? I'm definitely too tired to give you a juicy answer."

"Absolutely knackered," Robin yawns, leaning back in his chair. "Which is why you need to head on down to Ikea instead of me and purchase the necessary baby furniture. Then pop to the supermarket and pick up the smaller stuff like nappies and cream, whatever they have. Here," he slips his hand into his pocket. "Keys and credit card."

"But dad-"

Robin raises his eyebrows, silencing the green eyed lad. Harry pouts, taking the keys and credit card. He stands, approaching Willa in her little bed, and softly strokes the back of her tiny hand.

"You're sending me on a marathon, little one."

"Stop fondling her, you nutter. One minute you don't want anything to do with Louis, the next minute you're stroking his kid. Could you do some grocery shopping too?"

"Yeah, sure, want me to wash the car as well?" Harry questions back sarcastically, turning around to face his dad with a warm smile on his face.

Robin deadpans him, then shakes his head in disappointment. "Get out of here, you bother."

"Love you too, dad," Harry gives a thumbs up, grabbing his journal, getting ready to leave. He stops, pursing his lips. "Dad, when he wakes up, could you let him know I'd like to talk?"

"Sure thing. I hope you're not going to be rude to him. If so, you can spend the night in the neighbour's doghouse. The rate you're going at, it's going to be your second home."

"Dad, I just spent the entire night here," Harry defends himself.

"Who's to say you won't lose yourself for a minute?" Robin lets out a groggy laugh. "You're good, Harry. I'm just having a good ol' laugh with my son. Get going, does Gretta need bedding?"

"Uhhh, yeah. Thanks for reminding me, dad. See you in a bit."

∞

Gretta is fussy a lot of the time. She curls into a ball and her quills spike up when Harry thinks the poor hedgehog wants to brood about with him. It's like she senses when he's miserable and doesn't want Harry's negativity to project onto her. On a good night, she'll let him give her a good stomach massage.

Tonight is an exception because after placing Gretta on his bed and launching onto it, almost flinging the small animal off, she doesn't curl into a little defence ball. Harry lets out a long sigh, picking the little hedgehog up and placing her on his stomach.

He's exhausted, awake for far too long, and after all the running up and down and buying everything, his leg muscles are sore. So is his brain after the absurd amount of thinking he's done over how he should feel towards Louis Tomlinson, someone he barely even knows that is making him feel enraged like never before.

Gretta starts to wander around, too energetic. Harry should perhaps put her back into her cage, but he could really do with the company. Rosie works flexible shifts, picking up one this evening, and the few mates he has are adamant in their decision to receive their degrees. He should really slot in a little study session before he passes out from exhaustion.

He's about to pull out his studying material when Robin is calling out to him, finally back home. Harry picks Gretta up, securing her in her cage for the meantime. He leaves his room, leaning over the bannister to respond back to his dad and is surprised to see Louis and Willa back so soon, just not pleasantly surprised by it.

Harry looks between Robin and Louis, face straight and unreadable to Louis who stares back, equally quiet. Harry clears his throat.

"Up."

Louis furrows his eyebrows, glancing at Robin for some sort of explanation, but the man chooses to put away his keys instead of confronting Harry for being mannerless.

"Come on. Up," Harry pats the bannister. "I don't have all night, and I definitely don't have all hour."

Louis frowns but listens to the green eyed man, slowly approaching the stairs with Willa in his arms. It's cruel that Harry's ordering him up quickly as if he hasn't just given birth and isn't sore. But Louis doesn't mouth back anything, not because he's willingly letting himself get all trampled on, but because he would rather avoid another confrontation. It's an open slot for Harry to aimlessly spew out mean things to him as if it will undo the fact that he's here.

He makes it up the stairs, following Harry quietly through the hall. Harry walks Louis to the guest room he's been offered, opening the door. Louis knows he only holds it because of Willa. If Willa wasn't here, he'd have the door in his face. The blue eyed boy silently takes a seat on his bed, laying Willa on the sheets, newborn fast asleep.

Louis watches as Harry leaves the room, coming back with a knife to open up the box with Willa's cot, and numerous screwing tools. He places the pieces of wood on the carpet, fiddling with the instruction manual before glancing at Louis, waiting for the smaller boy to stop looking at him. Louis looks away immediately, rubbing his palms on his thighs.

Harry sighs. "Go and take a bath," he stands up, walking over to the chest of drawers in the room where he stored the clothes he picked up for Louis earlier on. He flings him a t-shirt, a pair of joggers and underwear. "I'll look after Willa."

Louis purses his lips, picking up the clothes. He's dying for a bath. "Thank you."

Harry ignores him, resuming with the cot by reading the instruction manual. Louis finally leaves after making sure Willa is safe between two pillows in the middle of the bed. He goes quietly without a word to Harry. The curly haired lad starts to work on building the frame, more than knackered, but at least if he does it now he doesn't have to do it tomorrow and can go into uni and pick up some Criminology material and have a good few hours away from the insanity he calls catering a criminal.

Willa wakes up a while after Louis goes, crying. Harry drops the screwdriver and makes his way over to her, gently picking her up. 

"Hi, Willa. What's wrong?" he holds her to his chest, gently swaying her. He wipes the tears from her eyes and the snot from her lips only to have her mouth at his thumb, sucking on it. "That's sort of gross, now you have snot and tears in your mouth."

Harry quietly laughs, heading over to the shopping bags huddled together in the corner of the room. He picks out a dummy, ready to substitute it for his thumb, but she latches on like a leech. Harry sees her eyes for the first time for a mere second before she closes them again. They're a stunning blue, absolutely beautiful, like the rest of her. He takes a seat on the bed, letting her take control, as much as that makes him feel like less of a man.

"What are you doing?"

Harry snaps his head up to Louis, the boy small in the t-shirt and jogging bottoms. Harry judged his size wrong. "Looking after Willa like I said I would."

"I mean your thumb," Louis' quick to take her from him, only to be greeted with cries when Harry's thumb is no longer in her mouth. "That's unhygienic."

"She's the one who latched on," Harry glares. "I wasn't going to argue with her."

"She can't speak, idiot," Louis responds, trying to soothe Willa but she only continues to cry. He feels guilty he just called Harry an idiot, he doesn't like to call people names, but Harry _is_ acting like one. 

Harry doesn't reply, only hands Louis the dummy he picked out and resumes back with building the cot. He's too tired to argue, too tired to care to argue. He'll finish the cot and get into his own bed to have a good night's sleep, and tomorrow he'll have a Louis free day.

Louis feels lonely. He's happy to be under a roof and to have a bed to sleep in and to have Willa, and to have someone like Robin who has been kind enough to give Harry the money to buy all the new things in the room for Louis and Willa, but it's Harry. Louis doesn't get Harry's issue.

He accepts that Harry isn't fond of him despite their family history. Harry's never met him, and all he knows is that Louis was just in jail for five years. Louis accepts that Harry isn't in the greatest of moods because he doesn't want to be looking after Louis because he was _just in jail for five years._ But it's unfair that Harry is judging him because of where he came from. It makes Louis feel isolated, like Harry's purposely making him feel unwanted.

Louis doesn't understand why Harry can't just be nice. Louis isn't staying here permanently. Putting up the cot when Louis never asked is a kind gesture, but any hope that Harry's truly being nice to him goes down the drain whenever Harry opens his mouth. It's not mainly the things he says because it's not like Harry's called him anything horrible, but it's the way he says the things he says, the look in his eyes when he says those things and the fact that he doesn't address the elephant in the room. The fact that he flat out doesn't like Louis.

Why can't he just say it? Instead of hoping Louis gets the message via the way that he's acting. It's child play, and there's only one person in the room right now that's entitled to playing like a child and it's not Harry. What bothers Louis the most is how Harry is okay with Willa. Harry's _perfectly fine_ with her. If he's not, he's hiding it, because Louis doesn't see any dislike on his face. In which, Louis comes to the conclusion that Harry's just choosing to dislike him, that his hate towards him is selective.

So the hope that Louis has for Harry perhaps kindly offering to make him a bowl of cereal or offer to pour him a cup of tea when they wake up tomorrow morning is from the fact that Harry can choose to _not_ dislike him, like he's a kid in primary school.

"I want to read you a poem I read some time ago," Louis speaks after a long while to Willa, despite the fact she's sleeping again, in order to cure the loneliness he feels. Harry glances at him but Louis misses it, too focused on Willa. He lays on his stomach on the bed. "I found myself one thousand miles from home in the arms of a stranger, the enlightened, and because of them, their nourishment, I have accep-"

"Could you shut up?"

Louis looks at Harry who's a ticking time bomb, clearly annoyed. The blue eyed boy decides to pass it off as fatigue, that Harry doesn't mean to sound so rude. It's probably a lie, but Louis would rather tell himself that over the truth which is the person who he's going to spend a lot of time around really doesn't like him. Louis looks back at Willa, holding her little hand.

"I have accepted my torment. I have breathed in my darkness and welcomed it home, surrendered to the-"

Louis has a onesie from one of the shopping bags flying his way, covering his face. He frowns, upset. "Do you not like poetry?"

"Love it. Your voice? Hard to say," Harry responds back dryly, moving the cot against the wall and beginning to place the bedding in it.

The blue eyed boy ignores the pang of hurt in his chest he feels, intent on finishing the poem to Willa. "Surrendered to the beauty, that was my undoing, and in acceptance I-"

"God damn it, Louis," Harry almost has a childish fit, ready to hit the floor with the pink blanket in his hand.

"God damn it, Harry. I'm trying to talk to my daughter about how her father helped change me."

Harry looks at Louis, confusion on his face. "Talk about him? I thought you were-"

"Raped?" Louis finishes for him, voice with a sad tone as he moves to sit up. "What, because I don't look tough enough to survive in prison? Because I'm one of the guys that can conceive and we get used in prison to satisfy men's need to breed someone up? Because I'm small? Because I'm pretty? Because I'm-"

"I just assumed, okay? I'm not trying to say you're anything," Harry puts up his hands in defence before he brings them down to put the blanket on Willa's bed, her cot finally done. "I'm going to go now."

"You're meant to take care of me."

Harry raises his eyebrows. "Haven't I? I've just spent nearly an hour putting up a cot."

"You've taken care of Willa."

"I have exams in a month. Looking after you is not my priority right now, nor will it ever be because quite frankly, I don't give a damn about you and the sooner you leave is the better. You did prison, I'm sure you can do a bit of soreness. You're on your own."

"I don't need you to fluff my pillow or carry me to the toilet, for heaven's sake!" Louis raises his voice, sincerely hurt. "I'm not physically impaired! I'm just a little bit emotional right now because I've just given birth and I barely know what the hell I'm doing! A little support would be nice..." Louis looks away, embarrassed that he feels the need to keep someone around, someone who hasn't exactly treated him the best since Louis met him. "Please stay?"

"No."

Louis bites his lip, the urge to cry strong. He learnt to be a brick wall in prison, he didn't exactly have a choice. Being out has got him feeling vulnerable, and he's constantly being attacked with responses that upset him. "Okay."

Harry leaves without a word further. There's a large part of him that feels guilty, a side of him that's always there and never goes when he's been rude to someone, or inconsiderate. But there's just something that really ticks Harry off about Louis, or there's absolutely nothing and Harry is being a right dick for no reason. 

Harry sighs, getting into bed for some well-needed sleep, only to reach for his journal and scribble in _I wasn't trying to say he's anything,_ he really wasn't, _but he's definitely small,_ super duper.  _That, I can agree with._

_And of course, he's pretty._

∞ _  
_

Harry gets an awful sense of déjà vu when he's woken up from his deep sleep to crying again, except this time it isn't in the middle of the night, it's at four in the morning, and it isn't Louis, it's Willa.

The green eyed lad groans, flipping over and covering his ears with his pillow, but not even that muffles out the sound that never stops. This whole crying situation sucks. Harry really hopes he isn't getting up in the middle of the night when exam season fully hits the way he is now just to check what on Earth is going on.

He leaves his room, entering Louis' one without knocking, and sees the blue eyed boy curled up on the floor against his bed, bawling his eyes out, Willa neglected in her cot. The sight maddens Harry. It's a touchy thing seeing a helpless little child calling for someone's attention and not receiving it. Harry's quick to pick Willa up, rocking her in his arms.

"Calm down, honey," he wipes the tears away from under her eyes and the snot from her lips with his thumb and again she latches on, harder than before. "She's hungry. What the hell are you doing on the floor?"

"I- there's no milk," Louis wipes the tears from his face with the back of his hand.

Harry glares. "What do you mean there's no milk? I bought you the formu-" he cuts himself off. Stupidly, that's the one thing he forgot to purchase. "What on God's Earth have you been feeding her all night then?"

Louis peaks his head up, eyes red and face puffy. Harry's staring at him with a judgemental look on his face. "The hospital gave me a couple sachets. There's none left," Louis responds with a small voice.

"Well, I don't appreciate that because your daughter is trying to drain my blood like a vampire right now, minus the teeth."

"It's not my fau-"

"Be quiet," Harry clenches his eyes shut, thinking whilst developing a nasty headache. "Breastfeed her. Problem solved. Take your top off. Now."

"No. I-I mean-"

Harry stares blankly. "What?"

Louis sniffles, looking away, feeling horribly self-conscious. "Please leave first."

"I'm sort of assisting your daughter here so the sooner you take your top off, the sooner I _can_ leave, and believe me, I want to."

"Please?" Louis asks quietly, patiently waiting for Harry to leave.

"You're pretty, okay?" Harry blurts out, irritated. "You look like the front cover of a Vogue magazine, stop bloody fretting, God damn it. I want to go back to sleep. Take your top off. I don't care about the loose skin or the stretch marks."

That's the nicest thing Louis has heard Harry say since they met. Well, it's the _only_ nice thing Harry has said. The bitter tone spoils it a little bit, but after having a breakdown over Willa and feeling horribly lonely, anything is better than nothing to Louis, and he has gotten more than he hoped for.

He looks up at Harry who glares at the wall, mad at himself for admitting it. That's what he has his journal for. "Thank you," Louis kindly responds, big blue eyes glimmering. He goes to say something else but Willa starts to spit Harry's thumb out, wanting her milk.

Louis sighs, taking a seat in the middle of his bed. Harry's words have lifted his spirit a bit but Louis' still feeling self-conscious. Harry wipes his thumb on his leg, Willa starting to flail her arms, a loud cry on its way. He places her in Louis' lap, climbing onto the bed to help him take off his top. In Harry's mind, it isn't a kind gesture, it's just a sensible gesture, the reasonable thing to do that will allow him to get back into bed quicker.

He pulls the material up, paying no attention to the blue eyed boy's stomach. There should be no shame in it. Louis was just pregnant. It's natural. Louis jumps when the t-shirt is covering his face and Harry flicks his nipple to get it nubby enough for Willa to latch on to. When the t-shirt is fully off, Louis' hair fluffs all over the place, making him look like a dishevelled mess. He sort of is. 

Harry waits for Louis to properly hold Willa in his arms, and for Willa to be latched on and finally quiet and content, but Louis' struggling with the whole getting-her-mouth-on-correctly situation. Harry rolls his eyes, softly holding the back of Willa's head and guiding her to him properly. She mouths on no issue and Harry gets up. He's got a raging headache that he needs some pills for.

He leaves without another word, as he tends to do a lot, and Louis listens to the sound of his feet down the hallway and the sound of the bathroom door closing. Louis purses his lips, unsure what to think of Harry. He's strange. 

It's a while until Willa finally finishes. Louis thought Harry would be asleep by now given the way he went on about wanting to get back into bed, but Louis hears him talking loudly on the phone in what sounds like an argument before he's heading off to the bathroom again, slamming the door a little too loud for nearly five in the morning.

Louis burps Willa, then lets the newborn quickly fall asleep before he puts her in her cot. He's extremely tired himself, bags underneath his eyes because of the multiple times he's had to get up tonight, but finds himself daringly leaving Willa alone for a few minutes to approach the bathroom with a touchy question to ask. 

The door is unlocked and slightly open. Louis can see Harry hovering over the sink, gripping the basin and staring at himself harshly in the mirror. Harry notices him immediately, a flash of exasperation flashing over his eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?"

Louis purses his lips, stepping into the bathroom. He's sort of hit with the swear word and Harry's hostile tone. It's insane to think Harry called him pretty less than half an hour ago.

"Why do you hate me?" Louis questions.

Silence falls between them as Harry clenches his jaw, trying to remain calm. Whoever was on the other side of the phone must have pissed him off, Louis thinks.

"I don't hate you, I just don't want anything to do with you."

"Then why do you help me?" Louis throws back, pushing his buttons. He doesn't know when Harry will snap, or if he won't snap at all and instead blurt out something nice again, but Louis wants an answer.

"I don't have a choice, nor am I cruel."

"But you sound it," Louis steps closer, stopping beside him. 

Harry stares icily at him in the mirror. "Get out. Go."

The fact is, Louis is stubborn, but Harry wouldn't know that because he hasn't taken the time to get to know Louis yet, nor has he had it. Louis is also incredibly stupid, in which the explanation for that presents itself when the blue eyed boy refuses to go.

"No. I want a valid explanation."

"I want you out. Now," Harry grips tightly at the sink, patience running thin, but Louis fails to move. "Get. Out. For fuck's sake, get-"

What Louis does is beyond disrespectful, gripping onto the back of Harry's neck extremely tight and pressing his lips against Harry's without permission, on a scale of one to ten, minus seven acceptable given who they are to each other and what they mean to each other. Harry's rage skyrockets. He's pretty much a hundred and something degrees Fahrenheit, and he slams Louis against the nearest wall, knocking the air out of him.

"Don't you _dare_ do that again."

"Gladly," Louis pants, ignoring the throbbing pain in his back. "I only did it to figure out if your issue with me really _is_ that you don't want anything to do with me or if it's something else. Clearly, it's something else because your hand is still on my waist and your face is still inches from mine - I believe the phrase is 'close proximity' - and right now, you have entirely _everything,_ physical, to do with me. Why not push me away? Why shove me up against the wall? Why-" 

"I'll fucking put you in tears if you say one more word further."

"What?" Louis laughs. "Does it make you tick? That I'm ripping you apart psychologically? That's the type of thing you Criminology students are trained to do to us, figure out why we break the laws, rip us apart mentally. You didn't expect a criminal to do it back, did you? Tell me, Harry. Why not push me away? Why shove me up against the wall?"

Harry grits his teeth, grip tight on Louis, forced to listen because he has no words to respond with.

"I think that reflects your thoughts, doesn't it? You don't want me to leave, you want me to _stay_ so you can do everything you can to make me feel like shit for being a criminal in the first place. It's true what they say, ain't it? Actions speak louder than words. Go on and tear me apart, go on and do it mercilessly. Prison boys cry. I won't be ashamed. Just know that getting rid of one criminal won't get rid of us all. This must be some eco-friendly shit, right? You think we're trash, that we're pollution. C'mon, admit it, instead of acting like an ass."

Harry lets go of Louis, putting his hands up in surrender and backs away despite the fact he feels downgraded and powerless. "Dear journal, I've named you Louis Tomlinson because you know everything," he sarcastically replies.

"I'm in the right mind to give you what you deserve right now. A good fucking punch in the dick."

"Go on. Go on and do it mercilessly," Harry mocks him. 

But Louis doesn't because at the end of the day (or night, rather) he feels horrible for calling Harry an ass, because the truth is, Louis is too kind. Harry notices that when Louis leaves, hurt and without another word. Seems like they both like to leave without further words or goodbyes.

∞

Louis' laying in bed, staring out the window, unable to sleep, the sun starting to rise outside, when there's a knock on his door. Louis furrows his eyebrows because everyone should be asleep right now. He gets out of bed, approaching the door and opening it. He's faced with Harry.

"I could use some emotional support right now."

Louis watches quietly as Harry walks past him, plopping down in the rocking chair in the corner by the window, staring out of it like Louis was doing less than a minute ago. Louis decides not to question it, closing the door and crawling back into bed. He lies on his other side so he's facing Willa instead, and is able to close his eyes and fall asleep with no issue as if Harry's company had been the answer.

Harry, with what he's just found out, isn't getting any more sleep on the other hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii thank you for the feedback so far!! I forgot to say that I'm on a weekly update schedule planning to update either on a friday or saturday each week. I hope you guys are liking this <3 Definitely check this out on Wattpad, you'll be able to see Harry's journal entry at the start differently in a more quirky way that I hope you like. @Britished
> 
> x


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